Aid
by Fraktals
Summary: A collection of Clintasha drabbles inspired by Ceasar's Palace's Shipping Week. Contains HoH (Hard of Hearing) Hawkeye/Clint B. AU-ish. Complete.
1. Love

**Chapter I**

 **Prompt: Love**

Her door was always locked. Perhaps out of suspicion that someone might feel the need to kill her in her sleep. Or maybe it was her subconscious impulse to cling onto any privacy she could get. She never knew the answer herself. She did know that she demanded no one come knocking on her door without her consent, so when she heard a fist rapping outside her room, she jumped up with a fully loaded gun, finger on the trigger. The rapping didn't stop until she swung the door open and aimed her pistol at the nearest target. It was, however, Clint Barton she found on the other side, carrying a bouquet of roses with a tiny card set atop.

His eyes darted between her and the gun, but he didn't flinch. " _For you,_ " he signed, then nodded towards the flowers in his occupied hand.

Natasha eyed him quizzically, but she lowered her gun, moments later, holding it limply with one hand as she picked the note from the bouquet. It read: _Happy Birthday._ And in the messiest handwriting she had ever seen.

He found out it was her birthday. Somehow.

She looked up to see Clint beaming at her.


	2. Lilt

**Chapter II**

 **Prompt: Lilt**

Whenever Clint had his hearing aid in (which wasn't often), he'd sit as close to Nat as she would let him, straining to listen to the faint hum of a Slavic tune parting between her lips. She'd be engulfed in a book, giving him no notice as she sang mindlessly with a soft Russian lilt under her breath. She was never loud enough for him to make out what she was humming, but the tune stuck to his head, and his fingers would often wander off on their own and tap quietly to the beat stuck in his head. He made sure never to bring it up to her.


	3. Lissome

**Chapter III**

 **Prompt: Lissome**

Natasha was beginning to realise just how far down she had buried her teenage years. The Red Room was nowadays nothing more than a vague black and white film playing quietly among a vast array of colourful memories. Yet, every lissome movement she made in battle began to slowly bring the hazy black and white back to vibrant colour, and she knew, in the deepest parts of her mind, that she would never truly forget every training, every dead classmate, every mission that wasn't for the _right_ team.

But some things made it better. Clint would often mock Steve's age in a rude manner, and she'd chuckle at Steve's frown. Somehow the lighthearted joking between her and Clint was just what she needed, even if most of what she said was a snide, sarcastic remark or two every so often.


	4. Labryinthine

**Chapter IV**

 **Prompt:** **Labyrinthine**

 **A/N: Honestly, I feel like I didn't do my best on this one. But this is probably the best I can manage when I'm tremendously tired. It'll have to do.**

The Avengers headquarters was not intricate enough for Clint to get lost in, but he had a habit of forgetting the routes precisely a day after memorizing them again. Clint blames it on his lack of sleep. Natasha mocks him for never paying enough attention to where he goes in the first place.

"I _do_ pay attention to where I go," he'd mutter bitterly. Or just simply groan in response when he wasn't in the mood to speak.

Once, he countered with, "At least I still know the way up to our place on the roof!"

She replied slowly enough so he could read her lips, in case she didn't speak loud enough; "You still think this place looks like a labyrinth."


	5. Lassitude

**Chapter V**

 **Prompt: Lassitude**

 **A/N: Not what I wanted it to be, but close enough. Enjoy!**

There was a small cottage near the forest outskirts that was once in foreclosure, now it belonged to Clint Barton. Legally, at least. He gave Natasha a key once he bought an apartment in the city. So, when she was nowhere to be found at headquarters, Clint assumed she took off somewhere _isolated_.

The cottage was the first place he looked. He found the door locked and windows sealed, but after fiddling with his key ring for some time he found one that let him in with ease. There were no misplaced objects when he entered, no imprints on the seats, no marks on the wooden floor from any shoes. There were no signs to prove to Natasha was there, but he still checked the only bedroom.

Nat was napping on her side, as if too overcome with lassitude to stir awake when he pushed the door open. Clint froze. Too afraid he might stir her awake the second he breathed. After what felt were hours, he hesitantly made his way over to the other side of the room. He noticed she wasn't under any blankets (and still in her combat suit), and he picked up a small quilt resting upon the only chair in the room. She shot up, eyes wide, staring at him before he could manage to even make it to where she was.

The blanket was dropped on the floor with a thud. She rubbed her temples, gradually relaxing her shoulders. "Oh, it's just you," she mumbled.

He swore that she was gone the second he blinked.


	6. Leisure

**Chapter VI**

 **Prompt: Leisure**

Sometimes on a lazy and uneventful Sunday, the coffee pot at Headquarters would be filled to the brim, on the brink of overflowing. Nat was awake as soon as the sun came up, and she prepared it when no one else was around. She'd eat in silence, reveling in the soft songs of the birds outside, and feeling a soft warmth overcome her when the sun reached its peak and shined down on her. Clint came half an hour later, pulling up a chair beside her. He rested his legs up on the table, almost feeling like an outlaw as some coffee dribbled down his chin.

He almost choked.


	7. Labor

**Chapter VII**

 **Prompt: Choose Your Own**

 **Word Choice: Labor**

The cool, short days of Autumn came early that year. Crisp leaves danced in the air, and landed gently on the frosted ground. It was a simple sight to see, but Clint found it mesmerizing.

He began to rake the leaves on the first Sunday of September. Nat was waiting for him in the break room, and they then chatted the rest of the morning away.

More fallen leaves decorated the lawn of Headquarters a week later. Nat offered to help. Clint didn't decline; the chore was done faster that way.

There was a sudden burst of laughter and giggles when Clint tripped and fell into a giant pile of leaves. She helped him up, and then aided him in cleaning up the mess.

 **A/N: ... And that is it! This was really fun to do! Although, a bit of a challenge. The prompts weren't my favorite, and I could have done better, I'd admit, but it still went well.**


End file.
